


Federal Custody

by Hexiva



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Leon, Fix-It, Gen, Hacker names used instead of RL names, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Someone Please Save Trenton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: Fix-it fic. Just before the Dark Army executes Trenton and Mobley, the FBI storms in and arrests everyone.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson & Trenton, Elliot Alderson/Leon, Trenton & Mobley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Federal Custody

**Author's Note:**

> Just an extra content note because of the times we live in: This fic features 3 characters of color, including one black man, being arrested by the US authorities and having guns pointed at them in the process. No police brutality occurs, but like, read at your own comfort level.

“What’s going on?” Trenton demands of their captor, as they’re brought back to their house. “Who are these people?”

“This is where we say our goodbyes,” their captor says, his lazy affect not changing. 

“What?” Trenton says, her eyes widening.

“You’re leaving us with them?” Mobley asks. 

Suddenly, despite the fact that this man murdered their friend right in front of them, the thought of him leaving them alone here is terrifying to Trenton, and she can see in Mobley’s eyes that he feels the same way. At least this guy is a known quantity. Better the devil you know, right?

If she didn’t know better, she would think that there was regret in the kidnapper’s eyes. Does he feel bad for them? Is he capable of feeling bad for them? “As you know,” he says, “I’m - I’m only a chaperone here.”

“Well, what happens to us now?” Mobley demands. 

“Well, that will be up to him,” the kidnapper says, gesturing to an Asian man standing further into the house, giving orders in Mandarin to men in dragon masks. “And I got my fingers crossed he treats you all right.”

And then the world explodes into action. There’s a  _ crash  _ as the door is broken down, and men in SWAT gear flood into the house, shouting orders, guns drawn, and the men in dragon masks grab their own guns. Trenton’s breath is knocked out of her as a body collides with hers, and she’s thrown to the ground behind the couch next to Mobley. The kidnapper has tackled both of them, she realizes, but before she can say anything he’s up into a crouch, the knife in his hand, and moving into action. His eyes are cold and dead, every trace of the man who rambled lazily about Frasier gone. 

Blood splatters the couch in front of them as a dragon-mask is shot in the head, and Mobley makes a wordless noise of horror. Trenton starts praying in Farsi, thinking,  _ this is it, this is how I die, please God have mercy on me -  _

And then the last dragon-mask guy is knocked to the ground, and he puts his gun to his own head and pulls the trigger. The kidnapper, bare-faced, is the last enemy standing, kicking away the unconscious body of two SWAT guys as he seizes the gun of a third one and directs the gunfire into the ceiling, grabbing him around the shoulders and putting his knife to the SWAT officer’s neck. 

The SWAT officers surround the kidnapper, and the kidnapper holds his new hostage in front of him as a human shield.

“Now, let’s not make any hasty decisions here, okay?” the kidnapper says, his eyes . “I’m gonna let your guy go here, and you’re gonna take me into custody alive. Okay? Okay. I’m gonna take the knife away, real slow-like, and then I’m gonna drop it and put my hands up. I ain’t killed anyone here today, and I don’t plan to. We got a deal?”

“Deal,” one of the SWAT guys says. “Let him go.”

“Okay,” the kidnapper says, slowly withdrawing the knife and letting it drop to the ground. He lifts his hands, and slowly sinks to his knees as his hostage jerks away from him and flees back behind his comrades.

“Hey!” one of the SWAT guys says, stepping behind the couch and seeing Trenton and Mobley crouching there. “Two more, behind here.” He swings his gun to point at the two hackers.

Trenton cowers, her hands in the air. “Please, please, we’re not with them, we’re prisoners - ” she begs. She thinks she might be hyperventilating. There is blood on her clothing.

“Hey, they’re not involved in this,” their kidnapper says, still on his knees. “They’re not a part of this. Let them go.”

“They match the description of the 5/9 suspects,” one of the SWAT guys says, and Trenton’s heart sinks.

Shit. This is it. They’ve been caught. Visions of all the terrible things that could happen to someone like her in US custody play in Trenton’s head, and she feels sick. 

Two agents in suits enter the house through the knocked-down door, a youngish white woman with red hair and a middle-aged man who could be white but could also be anything else. Mobley swears under his breath.

“That’s him!” the redhead says, pointing at Mobley. “That’s him, that’s the suspect. We have them!”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. 

Trenton, Mobley, and their kidnapper are handcuffed and herded into the back of a van at gunpoint. Trenton finds herself sitting next to the kidnapper, uncomfortably close, with Mobley on her other side. 

The kidnapper leans over to whisper into Trenton’s ear. Trenton freezes in terror. “This might be our last chance to talk one on one,” he murmurs. “So I gotta get some things off my chest. I’m gonna be fine, I’ve been to this rodeo before, and I got connections. So you can tell ‘em whatever you want about me. You can even say I made you hack ECorp, that’s fine, I’ll corroborate whatever you wanna tell ‘em. But just a head’s up . . . I ain’t gonna be in prison forever. I found you once, I can find you again. So maybe you think twice before squealing on your fearless leader, all right?”

Trenton blinks back at the kidnapper, blankly. “Are you talking about - ” she starts.

“Yeah,” the kidnapper says, cutting her off. “Yeah, him. He’s been through enough shit, all right? And he’s managed to keep his name clear so far, aside from the dog thing. So don’t drag him into this, or there’ll be some karma coming your way.”

Trenton swallows. She wonders what this guy, or his shadowy bosses - because surely the SWAT team hasn’t killed them all - want with Elliot. Why bother protecting him? “I get it,” she says. She wasn’t going to rat out Elliot anyway. It’s not his fault they’re all in this mess, and she still considers him a friend, in a weird way. Even if he is kind of an asshole. “I won’t say anything.”

“Me either,” Mobley says.

“Good.” The kidnapper smiles broadly. “I never introduced myself, but, seeing as they about to run my fingerprints, I might as well. I’m Leon. Nice to meet y’all.”

* * *

Trenton, Mobley, and Leon are shoved into a cell back at an FBI base. “Hey!” Mobley shouts, turning to pound on the cell door as it slams shut. “You can’t leave us in with this psycho. He’s gonna kill us!”

“Sorry,” the middle-aged FBI agent says. “We’re short on cells around here.” He looks over a Leon, and smiles slightly, as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’m sure nothing untoward will happen.”

Leon blinks lazily back at the FBI agent. Trenton can’t read his expression. Do they know each other? Does the Dark Army have an inside man here? Is this guy really deliberately leaving them alone so that Leon can kill them?

Oh god, they’re going to die.

The FBI agent turns and walks off. Trenton and Mobley are alone in the cell with their kidnapper. They slowly turn to face him, frozen with terror.

Leon’s eyes slide idly over them, and then back towards the hallway where the FBI agent had been. “Man, that guy has a stick up his ass,” he complains, and then he steps over into the corner of the cell and sits down, his arms wrapped around his knees. He shuts his eyes. After a few moments, he starts to rock back and forth, rhythmically.

Trenton and Mobley stare at him, blankly. He keeps rocking. They keep staring.

“Is - is he okay?” Trenton asks. 

Leon opens his eyes, with no sign of disorientation. “Don’t mind me. Just meditating.”

It doesn’t look like meditation to Trenton, but who is she to judge? “Does that mean you’re not going to kill us?” she asks.

“Nah, cuz. Don’t worry. Long as I don’t get any orders, I ain’t gonna do shit.” And he shuts his eyes and goes back to rocking.

Mobley stares at him for a moment, and then mutters, “Shit.” He turns away from Leon, facing the corner, and braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily. His back hunches over, and his shoulders jerk spasmodically. 

Trenton realizes he’s crying. She covers her face and slides down to sit against the wall. The image of their roommate lying on the floor, his throat slit, intrudes into her mind. She hadn’t known Anand well, but he’d been there when the two of them needed him, and he’d always done his share of the dishes and paid the rent on time, and he hadn’t complained about having two unexpected houseguests. And Leon had slit his throat right in front of Trenton’s eyes, a small, casual gesture, as easy as turning the keys in the ignition of his stolen Cadillac. 

It must be worse for Mobley. Arnand was his friend, really, not Trenton’s. She should get up and try to comfort him - but she can’t. She can’t even think about his pain. She is frozen internally, trapped in a single moment of horror. 

“Fuck,” Mobley says, at last. “We’re really fucked, this time.”

“Think positive,” Leon says, his lips curving. His eyes are still closed. “I got faith that everything’s gonna turn out all right for us. Someone’s looking out for us. You gotta have faith.”

Trenton doesn’t say anything. She wonders if Anand had faith. She wonders if it gave him comfort in his last moments.

* * *

Trenton has drifted off into a miserable sort of daze, but she is awoken suddenly by the sound of alarms cutting through the air. She starts upright, looking around her. FBI agents are rushing past outside her cell, all of them ignoring her. 

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Mobley says, going over to peer out the bars.

“I told you, cuz,” Leon says, opening his eyes. He doesn’t seem at all alarmed by the furor outside their cell. “Someone’s looking out for us.”

Outside, the FBI agents have stopped rushing past, and the hallway outside is eerily empty. Fear shoots through Trenton’s veins. “Is this - your bosses?” she demands. “They’re coming for us?” She doesn’t trust the FBI as far as she can throw them, but it has to be better than being in the custody of a homicidal cult who sent some psychopath to kidnap her.

Leon laughs. “No, no. Them? No. This ain’t their style. They have tidier ways of doing shit. This mess has all the hallmarks of our mutual friend.” 

_ Our mutual friend?  _ Trenton blinks.

An unfamiliar FBI agent walks into the empty hallway. He’s a tall Asian man with hair shaved short, looking sweaty and pale and almost as afraid as Trenton and Mobley. He has a phone in his right hand, held to his ear, and a key in his left hand. 

He glances up, looks at the three prisoners, and swallows, looking sick to his stomach.

“What’s going on?” Mobley demands. 

The FBI agent looks nervous. “And if I do this,” he says, into the phone, “You’ll forget what you know? About - about what I did? You’ll delete the files?”

Whoever’s on the other end must answer in the affirmative, because the agent steels himself, takes the key, and unlocks the cell door.

Trenton and Mobley look at each other, baffled. “Is this some sort of test?” Mobley asks.

The agent holds out the phone to them. “He says he wants to talk to you,” he says. “Please . . . just . . . tell him I did everything he said.”

Trenton and Mobley exchange another glance, and then, slowly, Trenton takes the phone. She puts it to her ear. “Hello?” she says.

“Trenton,” says Elliot Alderson’s voice, and immediately, Trenton feels a wave of relief.

Elliot. It’s Elliot. She doesn’t know how the fuck he managed this, but right now, she’s never been more relieved to hear that asshole’s voice. 

“We don’t have a lot of time. I’m waiting a block away. Stick with Leon, and come meet me. I’m going to get you out of there.”

How the hell does Elliot even know who Leon is? Trenton’s had to put up with a lot of erratic, unstable, enigmatic behavior from Elliot, but right now she feels like she’s reached her limit. But she needs an out, and he’s offering it to her. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’m on my way.” 

She leads the way out into the hallway, leaving the FBI agent behind them. 

“Who is it?” Mobley demands.

“Who else? Your fearless leader,” Leon says, with a chuckle.

Trenton ignores them and follows Elliot’s directions, out into the lobby, and - oh shit, there’s guards. She pulls back into the hallway. Did they see her?

“It’s chill, cuz,” Leon says. “I got this.” 

Leon becomes a blur of violence, seizing the first guard before he can react, slamming him up against the wall, then grabbing his gun and striking the other guard over the head with it. 

“These FBI guys aren’t as tough as they look,” Leon comments, as the guards fall to the ground. He glances over at Trenton and Mobley, who are frozen. “What? You two okay?” He follows their gaze down to the gun in his hand, blinks, and then chuckles. “You guys need to relax. If I haven’t killed you by now, why would I do it now? Come on. He’s waiting.”

“What’s the hold up?” Elliot’s nervous voice says in Trenton’s ear.

This must be why Elliot told them to bring Leon, Trenton thinks, numbly. She hopes Elliot knows what he’s playing at here. 

“Nothing,” she says, into the phone. She steps over the fallen FBI agents, and doesn’t check to see if they’re still alive. It could go either way, with head trauma. She doesn’t want to know. 

“Hurry!” Elliot says.

Out the front door and onto the Phoenix streets, they’re out, across the street and then around the corner, and there’s Elliot standing next to a big black SUV, nervous and out of place in his eternal black hoodie.

“Get in,” Elliot says, immediately, throwing one of the doors open. Trenton and Mobley clamber in, and Leon approaches, and Elliot and Leon meet eyes. 

For a moment, Trenton is afraid. Leon had to help them this far - they were breaking him out of prison, after all. But now? There’s nothing stopping him from killing Elliot and dragging them back to his bosses. And no matter how much of an asshole Elliot is, Trenton can’t bear the thought of him ending up like Arnand. 

And then, to Trenton’s shock, Elliot moves in and wraps an arm around Leon, in an awkward, jerky hug. Leon wraps his arms around Elliot, grinning, and gives him a squeeze before letting him go. 

“Missed you, cuz,” Leon says, looking down at Elliot fondly.

“Yeah,” Elliot says. “You, too. FBI custody’s a big step up from the county jail.” His eyes flicker away from Leon, and then back to him, and it’s hard, as always, to read Elliot’s dead eyes, but Trenton thinks she sees affection in them. “Now get in, we’re running out of time.”

The two of them climb into the front seat. Trenton and Mobley exchange a look, and clamber into the back. 

“Where’d you get the ride?” Leon asks, leaning back on soft leather seats. 

“Tyrell,” Elliot says, shortly. He starts the car and pulls out of the parking space.

Tyrell? Tyrell Wellick? Trenton thought the news was making it up when they said fsociety was working with Tyrell Wellick.

”Wait. You’re not taking orders from that guy, are you?” Mobley asks.

That’s what the news said - that Tyrell Wellick was the  _ leader  _ of fsociety, the mastermind.

Elliot snorts. “No. He’s . . . It’s complicated. I got him to help me. It . . . took some doing.” That sentence is weighted down with all sorts of meaning which Trenton feels completely unequipped to unpack. 

“How did you get them all out of the building like that?” Mobley asks.

“There’s a bank next door . . . hacked their systems, and called in a bomb threat for good measure. I was betting on them rushing to defend the capitalists next door.”

“Niiiice,” Leon says. “You got skills for days, cuz. I knew you’d find a way.”

Elliot snorts, again. “Good, because _ I  _ didn’t know.”

“You two know each other?” Trenton asks, unable to keep silent any longer.

“Yeah,” Leon says, happily. “We met in prison. He was my bro.”

Trenton stops to recontextualize her mental image of Elliot with this new information, while Mobley says, “You were in prison?!”

“Yeah,” Elliot says, flatly.

“For what?”

Elliot breathes in, visibly resenting this intrusion into his secrets. “I hacked my therapist.”

“And stole a dog,” Leon points out, cheerfully.

“And stole a dog, yes.”

That is . . . a lot. Trenton’s starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to observe total secrecy between the members of fsociety. How much does she really know about the man who masterminded this whole thing? 

Silence stretches in the car, Trenton and Mobley exchanging looks but unwilling to talk in front of Elliot and Leon. Elliot appears perfectly comfortable driving in awkward silence - of course he is - but after a few minutes, Leon starts explaining the plot of Knight Rider to Elliot, and doesn’t stop for the rest of the drive. Mobley looks like he’s getting ready to strangle Leon, but Trenton simply lets herself zone out, staring out the window and imagining she’s somewhere else.

It’s a long drive. They’re going out into the desert again, which makes Trenton nervous. Elliot must know what he’s doing. Right? He’s always been a paranoid bastard. If Leon were going to kill them all, surely he would realize.

Elliot stops at a little, run-down house out in the middle of nowhere. He rubs a hand over his eyes, looking worn. “One of Tyrell’s properties. Don’t ask. You’ll be staying here until . . . until we can figure out a way to get you out of the country.”

The three of them enter the house. It’s in better repair than the outside suggests, and Trenton wonders what exactly Wellick was planning to do with the place, before Elliot needed it.

She wonders what Elliot did to Wellick to get him to help. 

“There a bathroom in this place?” Leon asks. “I gotta go steal a mirror.”

Elliot points down the hallway, and Leon exits the living room. A little bit of tension goes out of Trenton’s shoulders, and Mobley sinks into a couch, looking pale and sick.

“Can we talk?” Trenton says, to Elliot.

Elliot’s pale bug-eyes sweep Trenton, up and down. “Yeah.” He glances over at Mobley. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Mobley mutters. It’s definitely a lie, but Elliot accepts it, and he leads the way into the kitchen. Trenton looks around at the dusty counters, one cabinet slightly open to show stacks of apparently untouched dishes. 

“What happens now?” she asks him, because she doesn’t know quite where to start. “To us?”

Elliot draws in a breath. “We’ll figure something out. Tyrell’s working on it. Leon’s got connections, too. Maybe somewhere with no extradition treaty. Maybe . . . I don’t know. Ecuador took Assange. We’ll work something out.” His big pale eyes are darting around the kitchen, never meeting Trenton’s. He doesn’t seem like himself, and it makes her nervous. “I know this is my fault. I got you into this. I started this.”

Trenton studies him, her gaze not letting up. “Why did you do it?” she asks, abruptly. “Romero wanted attention. Mobley wanted friends. Darlene wanted chaos. But you - I never got you. One minute you’re grinning and insulting me, the next you can’t even meet my eyes. Who are you?”

Elliot draws in a breath, slowly, and stares off into the middle distance. For a few moments, Trenton thinks he isn’t going to answer her at all. And then eventually, he says, “I wanted to save the world.”

_ Save the world.  _ It’s such a simple, even childish goal. Trenton can imagine her little brother saying it, his eyes shining. Hearing it out of jaded, distant, domineering Elliot Alderson’s mouth is - strange.

But is it that different from what she wanted to do? Save the world. Save her family. Save her  _ country,  _ maybe. 

She wonders if he’s an immigrant too. If his parents ever dreamed of a better life here. If they got it. She can’t imagine him as a child. He’s always seemed, to her, like an old man in a young man’s body. 

“Did you come to save us?” Trenton asks. “Or him?” Her eyes flick back into the hallway, where Leon left. 

Elliot follows her gaze, and his eyes harden. “Both,” he says, firmly. “Leon is my friend.”

“I didn’t know you had friends,” Trenton shoots back, and Elliot’s shoulders stiffen, as if she’s really hurt him. She hesitates, unsure. Elliot never seemed this vulnerable before. What happened to him?

“Leon’s . . . different,” Elliot says. “He’s one of the good ones.”

Trenton looks at him, incredulously. “He slit my roommate’s throat right in front of my eyes,” she says. “Mobley’s in the other room freaking the fuck out, because that was  _ his  _ friend. And he’s one of the good ones?”

Elliot goes silent again, in that way of his, looking off vaguely. 

“Elliot?” Trenton prompts, when he doesn’t say anything. His eyes snap to her. 

“When I needed him, he was there,” Elliot says. “I wasn’t going to leave him - or you - when he needed me.”

And that’s that. Trenton has never heard Elliot say anything so earnest and certain. He’s either distant and uncertain, or he’s confident and mocking, ironic, refusing to be serious. She knows she won’t change his mind, no matter what she says. 

“Are you really going to leave us here with him?” she says.

“Yes,” Elliot says. “You’ll be in good hands. He’ll keep you safe. And once Tyrell comes through - you’ll be fine.”

Trenton’s not sure she trusts Tyrell Wellick anymore than she does the enigmatic kidnapper. But what choice do they have? Whatever’s going on with Elliot, there’s no question that he saved her life. And Leon hasn’t killed them yet. 

“What about you?” Trenton asks. “Are you going to come with us? Out of the country? Or go into hiding?”

“No.” Elliot’s eyes slide off hers, into the middle distance again. “I have to see this through to the end.”

“5/9 was supposed to be the end,” Trenton says.

“I know. But it was never that simple.”

Trenton shakes her head. She steps past Elliot, noticing him flinch away from brushing against her - and when did  _ that  _ start? - and pulls a dusty glass out of the cabinet. She fills it with water from the tap, and heads out into the living room. As she enters, Mobley turns his head away from her, and wipes a sleeve across his face. She does him the courtesy of pretending she doesn’t notice he’s been crying, and hands him the cup of water. He drinks it, keeping his face turned away from Trenton. 

Leon walks back into the living room, whistling loudly. Trenton recognizes it, to her dismay, as the theme from Knight Rider. 

“Hey, is there a TV in this joint?” he asks Elliot.

“Nah,” Elliot says. “Off the grid. There should be some books in the back room, though. Don’t ask me what, I don’t know what Tyrell’s into.”

Leon shrugs. “Better than nothing.”

Elliot steps towards Leon, and then hesitates, and glances around, his gaze encompassing Leon, Trenton, and Mobley. “I have to go,” he says, looking out the window vaguely. “I have to - finish what I started.” His eyes flick back to Leon. “Will you be all right?”

“Yeah,” Leon says. “I’ll be fine, cuz.” He takes a step closer. “You swimming in some dangerous waters, cuz. Be sure the sharks don’t get you.”

The barest hint of a smile twists Elliot’s lips. “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you always say,” Leon says, sad and fond, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a light kiss to Elliot’s lips. 

Elliot shuts his eyes, and Trenton averts hers, feeling like, despite the casualness of Leon’s gesture, she’s being witness to something too personal. When she looks back, Leon and Elliot have separated. 

Elliot backs out of the door, awkwardly diffident, and then, before Trenton can say goodbye, he’s gone, out the door and into the car.

Leon watches him go, and then he looks back into the living room, his eyes landing on Mobley. “You gonna be okay, bro?” he asks.

“Do - do I look like I’m gonna be okay?” Mobley snaps. “I need - I need a - moment.” 

He needs more than a moment. Trenton, watching him, wonders if she’s going to be just as shaken when she finally has a moment to rest, when she finally has a moment to reflect on what’s happened to her today. 

“I’m sorry, cuz,” Leon says, quietly. 

It’s all he can say. 


End file.
